Wealth: Of Loving and Letting Go
by kkiiittttyyyyy
Summary: Love of the purest and most unconditional kind in the eyes of Ron Weasley as he pays a visit to his former wife. D/Hr as usual. DH-compliant if you think about it real hard, although no past references are actually made.


**Disclaimer: HP is not mine. I think you all know the drill. ;D**

**A/N: I seem to be obssessed with post-DH fics. Oh well. Here's another one. :)**

"Hermione," Ron said quietly.

It seemed strange to see his wife – former wife – opening the door to a home that was not theirs. Her hair was up in a bun, wild curls sticking to the sides of her face. She had obviously been cooking. He realized then how much he had missed her. Life wasn't really the same without her. Hermione went from being his friend, best friend, girl friend, fiancé, and wife to well, nothing. Nothing for the past five years.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting you. Come in," she replied with a small smile. "The place is a mess, I'm afraid. Things haven't been so – ah – simple lately."

"I heard."

"Well, no one ever said it would be easy."

Hermione motioned for him to sit and Ron laughed a little. "Small chairs. I never would have expected it."

"Not everything we expect happens. I'm sure you know that," she replied cautiously. Things had ended difficultly for them. The years apart, no matter how many, had served to mend only a few wounds.

"Yes, I k-know." Ron rubbed his hands together, urging himself to let out what he had come to say. "Hermione, I'm – "

"Yes?"

"I'm leaving."

"Oh."

Ron found himself smiling when his ex-wife placed a cup of tea before him – lemon, no sugar. She remembered. His thoughts, however, were interrupted by her speaking again. "Why?"

"I'm leaving for good. I'm not coming back to Britain. Ever."

"I asked you why."

"I have nothing here, Hermione."

It was true, in a way. All that he held dear – Hermione, Rose, Hugo – they were all gone from him now. The other Weasleys, the Potters, they all had their own lives too. He did not seem to belong anywhere anymore.

"I see." She seemed uncaring and it broke his heart just a little. Wasn't she even sad to see him go?

"Mione…"

"If you're wondering whether I care, the answer is yes. I do care. You're one of my dearest friends Ron. The past five years have been – well – different for us. Still, I care about you and what happens to you. If you are wondering whether I want to stop you, however, then the answer is no. You're a free man."

"I figured out as much. Can't blame a bloke for trying now, can you?" Ron said while scratching his head. "But, well, I do have some - uh - questions."

"Well, shoot."

"Huh?"

"It's a Muggle phrase. It means continue. Go, ask."

Taking a deep breath, Ron finally asked the question he'd been wanting to ask her for years. The question which even after hundreds of sleepless nights on his part, remained unanswered.

"Why did you choose him?"

Hermione was obviously surprised with his question. She thought she'd answered it years ago. Well, maybe not. But she'd hoped he'd understood by now. Five years was a long time.

"I loved him, Ron," she said with a sad smile. "I – I still do."

He'd known as much. Hearing her say it, however, hurt more than he expected it to. Here was the woman he had given some of his best years to. Yet she loved another man. One who, in his opinion, did not deserve her at all.

"And me?"

"You know I loved you too," she replied with a sad smile. "Perhaps not in the way you loved me, not in the way I was supposed to, but I loved you all the same."

"It wasn't enough though, was it?" he asked bitterly.

"No, it wasn't. Not really."

"What about our children?"

"I love them with all my heart, Ron. You know that."

Of course he knew that. Hermione had been the best mother that she could be when the kids were growing up. Even now, when Rose was twenty-three and Hugo twenty-one, she never failed to show them her love. She was always there for them – regardless of what she felt or didn't feel for their father.

"But you still left."

"He needed me. I had to be there."

"No. No."

"Yes."

"He had a wife, Mione! He didn't need mine!" He was starting to be angry now. Ron knew he shouldn't be. This afternoon was supposed to be about quiet goodbyes, forgiveness and hope for a better future.

"He needed love."

"I never understood why you loved him so much," Ron replied with defeat. He thought he should leave before it all went out of hand.

"I never understood either. Yet here I am, in this God forsaken cottage in the middle of nowhere, taking care of a man who on most days, does not even remember my name."

"You don't deserve this," he said glancing about. "This isn't for you. This was never what you wanted!"

"Correction. This wasn't what I expected. But love – love of the purest kind – is what I have always dreamed of."

Hermione stood up and took a photo off a small shelf. "Every time I feel like I can't take any more, I pick up this photo. It reminds me of the reason why I gave everything up in the first place."

Ron took the photo from her hand and winced slightly. Never had he seen Hermione as happy as she was in that picture with the arms of the man she loved around her.

"He's a lucky man."

She gave him a hug and for a moment he found himself lost in her arms. All too soon, however, it was over and she was again the composed woman who had opened the door.

"My life is here, Ron – beside him. It always has been. Yours is out there, waiting for you still. I am happy for you. You're leaving this behind as you should."

"I wonder sometimes if this has all been a mistake."

"No, no, it hasn't been. I made my choice years ago when I threw away everything to be with the man I truly loved. Granted it was the wrong kind of love in the greater scheme of things, it was the right love for me. He needed me and I was there for him. When his world collapsed, I was there to catch him. If I hadn't done that, no one else would have. I knew I couldn't just stand there and see him fall. He was always so great - always meant for so much more."

"And this – is this what that more was?"

"Sadly, no. But I am happy that I at least tried to help him get there."

She took the cups from the table and washed them quietly in the sink. Ron glanced at his watch and realized he would have to leave soon.

"Mione?"

"Yes?"

"I have to leave soon."

"Go," she replied without turning around. "Go and never look back, Ron. Do not feel sorry for me. I am where I want to be. This life may not be much but it is mine and his. It's perfect in that way."

"I – "

"I mean it, Ron. Don't. Leave."

"Alright."

Ron stepped out of the kitchen quietly and stood before the fireplace. Upon the wall was another photo of the little cottage's owners. They looked like they belonged together – happy and content. Were he and Hermione ever like that?

"You're still here."

"One last question," he said without meeting her eyes. "Do you regret marrying me a-and having a family with me?"

It took her a while to answer and when she did, he detected the sincerity in her voice. "No, no I do not Ronald."

He took three steps and wrapped her in a very tight hug. This was the last time, he was sure of it.

"Thank you, Mione. That means a lot to me."

As Ron stepped outside, he saw Hermione walk towards a small room opposite that of the kitchen. The door to it closed behind her but he supposed there was a window in that room too. He made his way to it and prayed that no one would catch him peeping.

He watched as Hermione quietly approached the bed. She placed the bowl of soup on a small table and bent down to give the man under the covers a small kiss. He looked paler than usual and quite frail, so much unlike the man Ron had spent seven of his school years with.

It seemed ironic that even after everything he had lost – his money, property and position in the wizarding world – Draco Malfoy still managed to be wealthier than Ron Weasley.

**A/N: Review? :)**


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